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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26283787">Interlude: The Thief</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvoidingAverage/pseuds/AvoidingAverage'>AvoidingAverage</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Into the Jaskierverse [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Badass Jaskier, Banter, Competent Jaskier, Cop Geralt, Fluff, Humor, Hurt Jaskier, M/M, Multiverse, Multiverse Challenge, Pining, Time Travel, sorta - Freeform, thief jaskier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:13:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,142</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26283787</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvoidingAverage/pseuds/AvoidingAverage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier opened his mouth to cry out, to scream, anything, but it was ripped away by the jagged shards of reality tearing through him.  It was the djinn all over again.  The agony of watching Geralt disappearing beneath the rubble of the house.  The first chill that always signaled Geralt returning to Kaer Morhen.  The pull of power and magic that he now recognized as the moment before a spell hit and he was left with no option but to wait for the pain to hit--helpless in the whims of an unnatural force.  </p><p> </p><p>Only this time there was nothing to stop the raw power that seemed determined to unravel him down to his very soul.  </p><p> </p><p>He</p><p>        was </p><p>                   remade.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Into the Jaskierverse [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>319</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Interlude: The Thief</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys!  I'm very excited to be a part of the Into the Jaskierverse project and to bring you an interlude from Jaskier's POV that brings in my thief Jaskier verse.  To read this, you don't have to have read my whole series as it is a standalone, but obviously, if you liked it, I'd love for you to check out the rest.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Interlude</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Death, it seemed, would come for him in the form of some unholy creature that looked like a cross between a gigantic manticore and some sorcerer’s most fucked up imaginings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought was a pounding current that battled the fear in his trembling limbs as Geralt hauled him through the portal Ciri pulled into being.  Blood dripped in familiar patterns down his leg, but he knew better than to slow down when he could feel the earth shuddering beneath every step of the monster’s feet in their wake.  Geralt’s fingers tightened around his arm like he could sense the way Jaskier contemplated telling them to go through without him and he felt the words die a quick death on his lips.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment when he begins to think maybe they’ve made it.  He could taste the magic in the air as Ciri’s portal pulled them towards somewhere far away from this nightmare.  Geralt’s arm was still tight around his waist and he could almost taste the relief in the Witcher’s body language when the desert heat was replaced by the gentler warmth of the clearing beyond.  He could hear the monster giving chase, but safety is only a few steps away now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stepped through the last bit of rippling magic and Jaskier felt Geralt’s hold relax infinitesimally.  Together, they take in a breath that tasted like relief and springtime.  Jaskier turned toward Ciri and--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something hard and unyielding clamped tight around his torso and </span>
  <em>
    <span>yanked</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He caught a final glimpse of panicked golden eyes, but it was already too late.  The beast’s vicious talons sank in a greedy vise around and dragged him away from the promise of safety in Geralt’s arms.  It screamed in triumph, drowning out the sound of the portal still closing.  He fought, weakened by pain but desperate enough to fight the inevitable if it meant ensuring he could have one last moment with the ones he loved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri’s mouth moved in a shout he felt more than heard and the world erupted.  Lights and colors blurred in a nauseating wave that was distant against the panicked need to get free of the creature’s hold.  He twisted in a move that made his wounds scream a protest, pulling like a rabbit caught in a snare.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rage filled him at the thought that after so many years of facing death over and over again, he was finally out of time.  That this monster would prevent him from ever getting to tell Geralt how he really felt or let Ciri know just how proud he was of the woman she’d become.  He wasn’t ready to </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave them</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Not yet.  Not when there was so much he still needed to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a shout, Jaskier bucked violently again.  He contorted himself in a bow as the magic around them reached a crescendo that made the air around them shudder and swirl.  The claw tightened for a beat before he finally felt it give and they were ripped apart to drift through the currents of chaotic power.  Jaskier watched the great dark shape of it move away from him with vindictive pleasure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hoped the fucker died slowly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without the monster pinning him in place, Jaskier let himself be tugged along without struggling.  He was too tired to even pretend that there was a way from him to escape this new nightmare.  His body trembled, vibrating in ways that were painful and unnatural.  Forming and reforming to the tune of the wind rushing around him and the blood pounding in his ears.  The force of it sent him rolling, tumbling toward a destination he couldn’t see.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hands reached for some sort of anchor but found only the vibrating energy and riotous colors.  Distantly, he could feel his body spinning through this new abyss and he prayed to Melitele that Geralt and Ciri managed to avoid this violent purgatory.  He caught a flash of whie and tried to lean toward it with a sound akin to a sob, but there was nothing but color and a roar of sound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Occasionally pictures and taunting mirages of unfamiliar locations flickered to life around him, too intangible to touch.  Soaring mountaintops that edged closer to the familiar views of the Continent merged with lands he’d never seen before despite all of his wanderings.  Despite the strangeness, anything was better than being trapped here for an eternity and he felt himself sob each time the openings disappeared before he could throw himself through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the corner of his eye, he watched his body reshape itself--claws grew into jagged lines at the tips of his fingers before shrinking away just as quickly, fur burst out of his skin in a dark wave like the werewolves of legend, his muscles bulged and rippled beneath his skin in a nauseating sensation--a blink and they were gone.  He even felt an unnatural weight tug between his shoulder blades that his scrabbling mind interpreted as wings before another tremor made the sensation a strange memory. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier opened his mouth to cry out, to scream, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but it was ripped away by the jagged shards of reality tearing through him.  It was the djinn all over again.  The agony of watching Geralt disappearing beneath the rubble of the house.  The first chill that always signaled Geralt returning to Kaer Morhen.  The pull of power and magic that he now recognized as the moment before a spell hit and he was left with no option but to wait for the pain to hit--helpless in the whims of an unnatural force.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only this time there was nothing to stop the raw power that seemed determined to unravel him down to his very </span>
  <em>
    <span>soul</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He</span>
</p><p>
  <span>        was </span>
</p><p>
  <span>                   remade.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as abruptly as it began, the inescapable pull vanished as the world trembled into focus around him.  His violently spasming muscles meant he was unable to do more than collapse in an ungainly heap when his feet finally found solid ground.  It doesn’t help that his leg is still throbbing dully where the creature’s leg had sliced through it.  He recognized the familiar burn of newly forming bruises and scrapes.  For long moments, it was all he could do to press his face against the cold surface where he’d been dropped and focus on breathing through lungs that seemed to have forgotten the taste of air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Survival seemed to be the only ending he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> expected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sensation of having the world’s worst hangover slowly faded with each greedy gulp of oxygen, allowing him to finally attempt to process what had happened.  Which was clearly a portal designed by demonic entities to rip unsuspecting bards away from their, their Geralts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His immediate instinct was to blame Yennefer when something went wrong involving magic--a spiteful holdover from their adventure with the djinn--but this time there was only a certain blonde haired princess at fault.  Truly, he was never going to live to old age if he continued to live around mages and Witchers.  Even Yennefer didn’t have the malice to create something as violently unnatural as the creature that had attacked them--may it rot in hell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over the years of traveling the Path with Geralt, Jaskier had begun to consider himself something of an expert in the field of magical beasts.  Sure, Witchers were educated in all manner of things that went bump in the night, but they lacked the skills needed to make those images come alive before an audience.  Geralt’s constant complaints about inaccuracies along with several decades worth of experience meant Jaskier’s songs had become as informative as they were entertaining.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even that skill had nothing on the images that--that </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>had conjured in a terrifying mimicry of the darkest nightmares an imagination could create.  Jaskier had been flooded with a sensory memory that did not belong to him that practically dripped with blood that had no business existing outside of Geralt’s veins.  It was everyone of the bard’s deepest fears and exactly what he only intended to allow over his own cold, dead body, if then.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He needed to get back to Geralt and Ciri to see for himself that they were alive and whole. He craved the familiar routine of helping Geralt out of his armor to run his hands over scarred flesh until the heart beat beneath chased away the lingering fears. There would be no relaxing from the state of urgency he was flooded with now until then. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier groaned softly at the thought and forced himself to think past the urge to curl up into a ball and never move again to consider his surroundings.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A quick look through slitted eyelids confirmed his initial suspicion that he was no longer near the place where he’d been taken.  The echoes of his harsh breathing told him he was somewhere without trees or tapestries to muffle the sound. Beneath his hands, he could feel the smooth surface of man made flooring. Odd shapes and shadows loomed out of the darkness, but he took peace in the lack of movement from them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only positive note was that he wasn’t surrounded by any grinning villains or murderous beasts.  In fact, he was hard pressed to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> besides tile floors that gave the impression of a large space unlit by any torches or fires.  If he had to guess he’d say he was in some kind of auditorium, but something in his gut told him he was far, far away from his homeland. Judging by the lack of alarmed shouts or running footsteps in his direction, he was alone here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe that was why he was so surprised when someone stumbled bodily over him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The stranger cursed, rolling with the motion to get back to his feet and leave Jaskier scrambling on noodly legs out of range.  They were as quiet as Geralt and the rest of his brethren when they moved—a thought that held no comfort when Jaskier was alone and unarmed. He squinted into the darkness for some indication of who had struck him, but the other man was already speaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who the fuck are you?” the stranger demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tone was familiar, but it wasn’t the gravel and whiskey rough voice of the Witcher he was hoping for.  Thinking quickly, Jaskier edged further out of range and tried to think of a way to answer the question without revealing too much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Play dumb</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he told himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh...I’m...a guest?” he said lamely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not that dumb!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That quickly, the stranger closed the distance between them in an abruptly aggressive movement.  “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quick question,” Jaskier replied with a weak attempt at levity, “where </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause before, “Is this some kind of a joke?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Listen, I know how crazy this sounds, but I was brought here by a portal and--” His rambling attempt at explaining where he’d come from was cut off when his outstretched arm shuddered violently in a spray of sparks.  Before his eyes, he watched the veins in his hands gleam bright with a magic that he’d never possessed before going dark once more.  “--okay, that was fucking weird.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he could recover, his back was slammed against an unyielding surface and he found himself staring at the stranger’s shadowy face from only a few inches away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It said something about how fucked up Jaskier’s life was that he was almost relieved by the familiar sensation of a blade at his throat.  He knew how to deal with that kind of threat—he had no clue on how to proceed with his body’s new attempts at reshaping itself. His eyes darted down to the leanly muscled arm pinning him in place as he raised his arms in a placating gesture.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The knife is unnecessary, I assure you,” Jaskier said, scrabbling for charming nonchalance and failing miserably. Truly, fuck his life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be glad I don’t carry a gun,” the stranger murmured in a low voice near his ear, “They’re too loud for my tastes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What the fuck was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>gun</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Jaskier thought with a frown.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Listen, I don’t want any trouble--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you didn’t want any trouble, you wouldn’t be trying to ruin this job for me.”  Then the man leaned close enough to examine Jaskier’s outstretched arm. “How did you make your arm look like that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s eyes darted around the oddly decorated room for some clue as to what kind of job the other man could be doing.  “Ah, I’m not sure,” he muttered, frustrated by how often that seemed to be his answer about the current situation. He considered lying, but needed answers of his own if he was going to get back to Geralt. “Where are we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Museum of Natural History,” the man replied slowly, as though he were humoring Jaskier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I...don’t know what that means.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked around the space as his mind struggled to arrange the information he had into an understandable narrative. The strange conversation confirmed his theory that he wasn’t anywhere near his home, but now he was wondering if he was even in his </span>
  <em>
    <span>world</span>
  </em>
  <span>. How else could he explain this? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought filled him with dread. He was no mage. He couldn’t conjure up a portal to bring him back home on his own. Judging from the lack of recognition at the mention of portals, the stranger didn’t know magic either. Which meant he was alone, injured, and had no way of getting back home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No way to get back to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The echo of the Witcher screaming his name felt like a portent of doom now that there was no adrenaline to chase away the sound.  His heart thudded loudly in his ears and he reached out blindly for something to balance him, fingers scrabbling uselessly against a slick surface. With his eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness, he saw the stranger frown at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name, kid?” he was asked with a faint trace of a smile, “Did you take something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier managed a weak scowl at the moniker and the implication that he was a thief or an addict. They were even the same </span>
  <em>
    <span>height</span>
  </em>
  <span> for Melitele’s sake!  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a kid. My name’s Jaskier.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead of relaxing, the man holding him tightened his hands until Jaskier made a soft sound of pain. This time there was no humor in his voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who sent you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Panicked, Jaskier flared out one hand for something to defend himself with and winced when he struck something that his sensory memory interpreted as a vase. There was a thud followed by a crashing sound that made them both flinch.  The shards of ceramic spread in a broad patch of glittering pieces and Jaskier winced when he heard something else fall over in the process. The noise sounded painfully loud in the once silent hall and it took several seconds before the noises of destruction halted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Then there was silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, both he and the stranger remained frozen in place, listening for any sign that their mishap had attracted anyone else’s attention. When there was no response besides their stuttered breathing, the stranger slowly released some of the pent up tension in his body. He opened his mouth to speak when—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An unholy screeching sound echoed around the space and red light illuminated the room in jarring bursts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The stranger cursed viciously, backing off slightly to look around the room for the guards that were no doubt coming their way. With the alarms lighting the room, Jaskier was able to see the moment when the stranger turned back to him and gape at him in shock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because he was staring at the mirror image of himself. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next hour was a blur of being pulled bodily behind the man who might as well be a Doppler for all the similarities between them. With security hard on their heels, there was no choice to follow as they ducked into a side passage and slipped through a window that had been left carefully open for just this purpose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Jaskier was beginning to doubt his twin’s good intentions.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Outside was little relief. Instead of trees and open sky, there were massive metal and stone structures that grew to startling heights and were lit by unnaturally bright lights. Jaskier could feel hysteria crouching at the edges of his mind, but forced it away stubbornly. He could contemplate insanity later. Right now, he needed to find a way back to Geralt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The stranger didn’t seem inclined to release the firm he kept on Jaskier’s wrist as they raced along a narrow portcullis and down into a maze of perfectly trimmed hedges.  Jaskier’s leg sent burning streaks of agony down his side and he was beginning to worry that he’d collapse when he was shoved unceremoniously into a strange metal carriage manned by a pungent stranger.  A glance at his strange companion confirmed that now was not the time to release the slew of questions he was collecting, so he bit his tongue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Twins, huh?” the driver said as they began to move.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s double shot him a look before his face twisted into a complicated expression.  “Something like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the light of the streets illuminating their features, there was no way to ignore the similarities.  He could see the small cluster of freckles that rested at the base of his neck and the stubborn piece of hair that refused to lay flat.  There were differences, of course, too.  Jaskier was still dressed in the torn and bloodied doublet that he’d been wearing to save Ciri while the man beside him was dressed in tightly fitted shirt and pants with a number of pockets that matched the matte color of his boots.  He looked like a shadow come to life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Familiar tousled brown hair was cut in a style that left it long enough on top to curl softly.  There was an air of confidence that Jaskier only recognized as the way he felt when he performed.  A glance down at the fingers still locked around his arm confirmed that they had the same callouses born from years of playing a stringed instrument.  He wondered if he was a musician too.  When he wasn’t in museums in the middle of the night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cab pulled to a stop outside of a nondescript building and Jaskier forced his tired body into motion once more.  They walked for another hundred yards before his double turned into one of the abandoned looking buildings and ushered him inside with a broad gesture of an identical hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as the door was closed behind them, the other man flopped down on a slouchy looking chair and gestured for Jaskier to do the same before he spoke.  “I don’t think you’re a long lost brother I’ve just serendipitously discovered.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a question, but Jaskier answered anyway.  “No.  I don’t think we are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So who are you and where did you come from?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The story comes in fits and starts, awkward in a way that only explaining your entire world in a few sentences can be. He described magic and monsters, Witcher’s and mankind, as simply as he could. His counterpart, to his credit, remained a watchful audience throughout.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier supposed seeing a man’s body part magically glow without any warning would make any more open minded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he finished, the other man took a deep breath and frowned. “So you were brought here through some magical accident?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier nodded and resisted the urge to begin pacing. Even if he wasn’t beat to hell, he was exhausted. Moving around wouldn’t make this any easier to accept. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a multiverse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man leaned forward with a gleam in his eye. “When I was a kid I used to love science fiction novels that, well, it isn’t really important. But they sometimes told stories about people who were moved through alternate universes complete with versions of themselves.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re this universe’s version of me?” he asked skeptically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right. In your universe, you’re a bard. In my universe, I’m a thief.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thief</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thief waved away the exclamation with a lazy gesture. “I prefer aggressive acquisitionist, but it doesn’t matter. What does matter is why the magic dropped you </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean? It was an accident.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, magic in your world seems to be a form of fate and intent of the wielder and Ciri was only trying to save you, right? So her magic must have sent you here for a reason.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite himself, hope flared to life in his chest and Jaskier leaned forward eagerly. “But what could it be? You don’t have magic here to send me back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A slow smile bloomed like a sunrise over the other man’s face, eerie in its familiarity. “The museum.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’ve got an exhibition opening tomorrow that features some medieval grimoires and various occult objects. Maybe there will be something there you could use.” He hummed and looked a little pensieve,  “Geralt will kill me if I get in trouble for stealing again though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Geralt is here?”  Jaskier really couldn’t be blamed for the way he’d been practically trained to perk up at the mention of the name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have a— well, that is interesting. I suppose there would be versions of all of us in each universe.” The thief grinned playfully, “I bet Yenn is some kind of assassin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier let out a huff of laughter. “Close. She has definitely killed her fair share in my world.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Geralt is a...Witcher? What is that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A monster hunter of sorts. He kills anyone who hunts humans though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Silver for monsters. Steel for humans.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thief seemed to notice the way Jaskier instinctively prepared to defend the plight of Witchers because he let the explanation stand without question. “Makes sense. My Geralt is in a similar job here too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wording makes something green and familiar twist in his gut and he doesn’t quite manage to sound innocent when he asked, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt?  Are you two…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A flush darkened the pale skin of the man’s cheeks and he ducked his head to stare down at his hands. “We’re...complicated.”  Then he looked up with a self deprecating smile, “I guess that’s the same in every universe, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier swallowed hard and nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a long moment, they’re thoughts turned inward and they let the silence grow without contest.  Jaskier felt drained by the whole experience to the point of barely managing to stay upright.  The cut along his thigh was thankfully not bleeding anymore although he’d be glad when he could change out of his disgusting clothing and sleep for a few years.  Somehow, even with his exhaustion, he didn’t want to think about the nightmares that he knew would be waiting for him when he closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll help you find him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words are so sudden and unexpected that Jaskier jerked in surprise.  “You will?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A wry smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  “Of course.  Every version of us deserves to be with their Geralt.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is obscene.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Irritably, Jaskier tugged again at the pants that were clinging to every inch of his skin.  It wasn’t as though he didn’t enjoy a finely tailored outfit, but this was taking it a step too far, he thought.  A group of ladies walking by watched him fidget, giggling even as their eyes raked over him appreciatively.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up--those are some of my best pants,” the other Jaskier grunted, eyes scanning the crowd around him in a way that was oddly reminiscent of Geralt.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you work as a prostitute when you aren’t robbing people?” he asked with false sweetness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thief rolled his eyes and began making his way through the crowd toward the entrance to the exhibit.  In the daylight, the massive museum was even more impressive and it took effort not to get distracted by gaping up at the massive windows that allowed him to see the strange contraptions and people that inhabited this world.  Part of him regretted that if their plan worked, he’d never get the chance to explore this strange new world.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>The rest of him knew he could never be happy in a world that didn’t have Geralt, </span><em><span>his</span></em> <em><span>Geralt</span></em><span>, in it.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt like he was swimming underwater, lungs burning with the need for the oxygen just out of his reach.  Unable to truly live without being beside the grumpy, irritating, secretly sweet, pain in the ass that he’d been following for decades.  It coincided with the uncomfortable itch that seemed to vibrate beneath his skin like it had in the portal the day before.  He kept his hands shoved deep in his pockets just in case they decided to turn purple or blast sparks again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He barely resisted the urge to scuttle out of sight when he saw a few men and women watching the crowd wearing security uniforms, but the thief didn’t pause in his easy, confident walk toward the exhibit they’d nearly been arrested for breaking into last night.  It had been the other Jaskier’s idea to return the next day during the lunch hour.  He’d informed Jaskier that at that time there would be enough of a crowd for them to blend in with and the guards would be sleepy with their full bellies.  All they had to do was follow The Plan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Plan:</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>1. Arrive at the museum after lunch.</span>
</p>
<ol>
<li><span> Go to the exhibit with the grimoires.</span></li>
<li><span> Look for something that might help him reopen the portal to home.</span></li>
<li><span> ???</span></li>
</ol><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier forced his rattling nerves aside and put on the smile he reserved for the most apathetic crowds and walked through the entrance.  A few feet away, he caught the thief’s eyes and they shared a slightly relieved moment when none of the guards looked twice at them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which is probably why his body decided that was the moment it would give full-body shudder that was in no way natural.  He caught sight of his skin rippling with runic designs and even fur before the thief was sliding up to him smoothly to block his body from the view of the other museum goers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A few too many mimosas at brunch,” he called cheerfully to one of the older women standing nearby, “What a lightweight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gave a disparaging sniff and turned away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck was that?” the thief whispered under his breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Jaskier shook his head, gasping for air like he’d been running for his life.  It felt as though his bones were vibrating with a frantic energy just beneath his skin.  His hands spasmed at his sides until he was clutching at the other Jaskier with near desperation.  It had to </span><em><span>mean</span></em> <em><span>something</span></em><span>.  It had to mean they were close.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s here.  The magic is reacting to whatever it is they have here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite the way his body was reacting, he couldn’t help the rising hope that he might have found a way back home.  He would be able to see for himself that Geralt and Ciri had survived that terrible creature.  He could pretend that this had all been some fever dream and bury himself in the familiar rhythm of Roach’s hooves and Geralt’s hums.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Melitele, what did it say that he was actually missing the big oaf’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>grunts</span>
  </em>
  <span>?)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Following the sensation that made him want to simultaneously move closer and run far away, Jaskier used the thief as a crutch when his legs seemed to change shape at will.  It helped add to the image of a drunk he was meant to portray.  Not that he cared much about what any of these people thought when he’d been leaving them behind soon enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ahead of them, a rambling line of people strolled through the glass cases arranged beside tapestries that depicted fantastical creatures that Jaskier knew without looking did not belong to this world.  He ignored a row of chalices and tools that would have made Yennefer sneer with disdain to drift closer to the less-popular displays at the back of the space.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Safe beneath the glass, a series of books lay.  Their pages were yellowed with age, the ink gone pale and the bright colors that once were hidden by years gone by.  He could imagine the mage bent over the pages, scrawling notes and concoctions by the flickering light of a candle.  They lay in a stately line in the soft lightning of the display, just as out of place in this modern world as he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His breath stuttered in his chest as the chaos crawling within him continued toward some inevitable crescendo.  If the thief was speaking to him now, he couldn’t say.  All he could hear was the beat of his heart in his chest and the magic calling him home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reached out a hand and jerked in surprise when one of the books rippled along with the next pulse of magic.  It was smaller than the others and he thought he recognized the images of plants from the books Vesemir kept in his massive library.  If he had to guess, he’d say it was designed to be carried in a saddlebag without taking too much space.  The perfect companion to a Witcher on the Path.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, even seeing you change like you do, I really didn’t believe this was real.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier blinked hard, feeling like he was being dragged from a deep well to face the thief.  “It’s real,” he repeated, “I have to get it out.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other man sighed softly and raked a hand through his hair until the curls were riotous around his features.  He looked down the hall to where the guards were just out of sight with a critical eye.  Then he laughed softly, “I haven’t done a smash and grab in years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bard watched the thief without a word, knowing this was a risk the other man had no reason to take.  A risk that could ruin his life here.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The thief didn’t hesitate once it was obvious that they’d found what they needed here.  Just reached out with a quick movement and ripped away the glass at the back of the display.  Immediately, the familiar sound of the alarms began to blare overhead and he heard shouts of alarm from the crowds around them.  There was no way to hide the way the thief was reaching into the case so the man didn’t bother to finesse some excuse, just grabbed the weathered cover and pulled it free.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Every Jaskier should be with his Geralt,” the other version of himself murmured as he pressed it into Jaskier’s fumbling hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the world around him was ripped away.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
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